Toxicity
by Sandylee007
Summary: House, despite convincing himself otherwise, is worried when something seems to be off with Wilson. He also discovers a suspicious injury. Is there something sinister going on? WRITTEN WITH SLASH IN MIND, MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE NOW A CHAPTER FIC
1. Prologue

A/N: This idea came to me out of nowhere today and I just had to type it out. I have no further justification for this one's existence. (smirks sheepishly)

WARNINGS: WRITTEN WITH SLASH IN MIND. Mentions of domestic violence. Violence. Adult themes. Language. (glances around) Anyone out there…?

DISCLAIMER: Pfft, if only…! But the series is about as mine as our beloved team is real. (pouts) But hey, a girl can always dream.

Awkay… I've really gotta get going before I chicken out soooo…. I really, truly hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

* * *

**_Toxicity_**

* * *

Gregory House was exactly a minute from his boredom reaching a destructive level when the office's door finally opened. Weary steps walked in, pausing only for a second when the arrival noticed him. "Sorry", James Wilson's familiar voice sighed. "I'm not going to be your lunch provider today. I forgot my wallet at home."

House shrugged with very little care, observing lazily how Wilson moved towards his desk and slumped down heavily. A frown appeared while a predatory gleam took over his eyes. Another dead patient? A bad date?

"No need to feel bad about it", House assured his best friend. "I already had Foreman pay for my food." He raised an eyebrow at the dark circles around Wilson's eyes and the bags hanging underneath them. "Someone didn't get their beauty sleep."

Wilson snorted. The look darted his way was deeply irritated and disbelieving. "Thank you for those kind words."

House filed that comeback away. His curiosity wasn't satisfied yet. "You must've had one hell of a date. She kept you up pretty late, didn't she?"

Wilson's eyes narrowed. It was impossible to name all the emotions flashing in them. Well, at least it was for House. "None of your business", the oncologist bit out.

House lifted his hands in surrender. "Hey, easy! Whoever pissed into your cereal this morning it wasn't me. Even for me that'd be just too gross."

Wilson sighed. "Sorry." The younger man looked at him with a equal degree of curiosity and annoyance. "I assume that there's a reason why you're camping on my couch."

House groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was thrilled to discover that the ache hammering in his skull had subsided to a far more tolerable level. Goodie. How there was just the throbbing of his leg left. "The Ducklings and I needed a break from each other", he muttered.

A thin trace of amusement flickered on Wilson's face. "I see."

With his curiosity only aroused further by his friend's earlier hostile reaction House was planning on poking further, most likely too far, until he noticed something that caught his attention. A burn mark on Wilson's left hand. Nothing too severe but rather large and most definitely painful. House refused to admit that he would've been worried but he did frown for the second time in five minutes. And whistled. "Woah. That had to hurt." Seeing the younger man's questioning look he nodded towards the hand, rising to a sitting position. "How did you manage that?"

Wilson shrugged. "A cooking accident." Quick. Almost too much so. "The frying pan and I had a disagreement."

House nodded slowly. He didn't like the ball forming in the pit of his stomach. "I'd say that your hand lost that round."

House would've wanted to pry more but a text message interrupted him. It was from Foreman. The diagnostician groaned. He should've known that Foreman would be useless at babysitting duty.

'_991_', was all the message read.

"I've gotta go before the kids end up killing the patient." House sighed dramatically as he pushed himself up, beginning to limp towards the door. "Stay out of the kitchen."

"Bye, House."

The current case wiping Wilson's suspicious injury from House's mind the older man barged into his own office, not even trying to hide his irritation. "So, children… Any guesses I can laugh at?"

* * *

Alone in the security of his office Wilson spent about five seconds just breathing, his fried nerves lulled by the sense of familiarity and safety.

In. Out. Easily. Effortlessly.

For a few stolen moments of bliss everything was completely, absolutely right in the world. Breathing didn't hurt. His heart wasn't hammering and his blood wasn't boiling hot with adrenaline or cold with dread. He couldn't even feel the pain that'd been gnawing his burned hand mercilessly.

That serenity, of course, wasn't allowed to last forever. His phone bleeped uncomfortably loudly, screaming that he'd received a new text message. Wilson knew who it was from long before he ever looked. His moves were stiff and reluctant as he took the item and opened the text.

His heart was hammering once more. His hand was hollering out of sheer agony. He didn't have to see a mirror to recognize the look on his face.

'_I went too far. I'm sorry. Come home._'

Wilson didn't have even the faintest idea of how long he remained behind his desk, his face buried into his hands and trying desperately to control his breathing. The control _anything_. He knew that House was still in his own office, plotting something he felt much more comfortable with not knowing intimately. He could've gone there instead. Could've…

Another bleep. Wilson sighed. Counted to three before opening the message and swallowing the poison.

'_Please. You can't do this to me. I love you. I'd die without you._'

Wilson's eyes blurred for the briefest of moments, the blur seeming to spread absolutely all the way through him. His mouth opened, then clasped tightly shut once more. With his jaw tightening the oncologist walked out of the office, locked the door without daring to look back and moved on.

Wilson's heavy feet led him out of the hospital.

* * *

-O-

* * *

A/N: (sighs) Poor Wilson, no? 'Wonder just how deep of a trouble he's in.

To be perfectly honest I'm not entirely convinced that story is over. What do you guys think? Was this any good, at all? How would feel about chapter two?

In any case, thank you so much for reading! I really hope that I'll be seeing you again.

Take care!


	2. Chokehold

A/N: WOAH! This received a thousand times warmer welcome than I could've EVER dared to even dream of. (beams)

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for you fantastic review! (hugs) They seriously mean the world to me.

Now, since there seemed to be those of you who wanted this story to continue… Let's go! I truly hope that you'll enjoy this one.

* * *

Chokehold

* * *

A month passed by and Wilson's burn injury was a thing in the past. It was one o'clock in the afternoon when House marched into his best friend's office, not paying the thought of knocking any mind. "I'm hungry and I'm going to make sure that you actually eat today", he announced, tapping the floor with his cane impatiently. "So, we're going to get some lunch. You're buying."

Wilson sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry House but I'm busy. I've got paperwork and the next patient…"

"… wouldn't appreciate a doctor swaying on his feet", House interrupted, his impatience intensifying tenfold. "So, you've got two options. Either you go with me willingly or I'll have to result to more drastic measures."

Wilson gave him a wry look although some amusement shimmered in the younger man's eyes. "You do remember that kidnapping is a crime, don't you?"

House shrugged. "So don't make me commit it. I've been to a jail and it's not all it's cracked up to be." He already knew that he'd won.

They'd been sitting in the cafeteria for about ten minutes until House noticed how slowly and stiffly his friend moved, wincing from time to time. "What's with the geriatric turtle routine?"

Wilson cleared his throat. Was that… a blush? "My back just hurts a bit. Sorry, not a new puzzle for you."

"You managed to hurt your back? How?" House frowned until his eyes widened to a nearly comical size. "Oh…!"

Yes, this time there was definitely some coloring on his friend's face. "Yeah, 'oh'. I'd… rather not go into further details."

House smirked although something he didn't quite like began to swell in the pit of his stomach. "Well how about that… I would've never thought that you had it in you."

Wilson responded with throwing a french frie at him. For the first time in who knows how long there was a genuine smile on the oncologist's face. "Grow up, House."

House stuck out a tongue, unashamed of the fact that his mouth was full. Wilson rolled his eyes but the man's smile widened a fraction.

They finished the lunch surrounded by a comfortingly familiar air, blissfully unaware of the eyes observing them.

* * *

There was a nagging warning in the back of Wilson's head long before he ever opened the door of a apartment that was supposed to be a home. Or perhaps it was the voice of experience that alarmed him. As much as he hated the thought by now he knew all the signs.

Wilson took a deep breath upon closing the door. The tv was on. He could smell pasta sauce. There was a light shining from the living room. So deviously normal.

Feeling oddly dazed he took off his jacket before heading towards the light. "Hey. I'm sorry I'm late." He swallowed, attempting to shield against what was to come. By then he'd reached the living room's doorway. No one was inside. He blinked a couple of times, the vacant exterior momentarily cracked by a shockwave of panic. The stinging sensation in his eyes was persistent. _Please… Not now, not today…_ "I lost a patient. A child."

"So you had a shitty day?" The voice came from behind him. "So did I, Jamie."

Turning towards the speaker Wilson felt his heart thumping erratically all of a sudden. The man behind him was at around his age, very tall, athletic and ridiculously good looking. Entirely too attractive, even with that chilling expression contorting the familiar face. Those dark brown, almost black eyes were cold and unforgiving. The usually neatly done black hair was a mess, a declaration of war.

Wilson gulped, taking a subconscious step backwards. "I'm tired", he tried, working his hardest to keep his voice even and failing. "Can't this…?"

"This is our anniversary!" The other's eyes held so many emotions all at once that it was impossible to name them all. "I came home early and cooked for you! I waited for you! I… I _tried_, just like you told me to! Do you even fucking see that? I'M TRYING FOR YOU!" There was a choked gasp, dangerously close to a sob. The taller man's hands were shaking. "I'm trying, but I can't… I need you to help me, James! I can't do this alone!"

Wilson blinked rapidly, feeling a surge of guilt although he knew he shouldn't have. He was shaking as well. "I'm sorry", he murmured.

The other gave a weak nod along with a shuddering exhale. Tears didn't seem to be far. It wasn't until the arms wrapped around Wilson so tightly that it hurt he realized just how close the black haired man had come. The oncologist returned the embrace as well as he could, his heart hammering madly with raging adrenaline and emotions. His trembling was only becoming worse, no matter how much he tried to fight it.

Of course the other noticed. The arms holding him tensed up and tightened still, nearly taking whatever little breath he'd had away. "You want to get away from me. You're getting sick of me already, aren't you?"

Wilson's chest tightened and his body turned far colder than it should've been. "Nick, I… I need you to calm down. I want you to let go of me."

Nick did. Pushed him further so fast, in fact, that they both stumbled. Hurt, fury and grief flamed in the man's dark eyes. "So get the hell away! LEAVE, like the rest of them!"

Wilson knew perfectly well that he should've headed towards the door, away. But the naked despair in Nick's eyes… "I promised. Remember?" He approached although his old injuries still stung. Although he could barely breathe underneath the weight that'd been laid to his shoulders. "I won't let you chase me away. No matter how bad it gets." That was when he made a mistake he regretted instantly. He laid a hand on Nick's shoulder.

The touch was feather light yet the result was instant. Nick shuddered and that was all the warning Wilson received. He was floored before he realized that there was a fist headed his way. His head hit the hard floor and he groaned, barely managing to overcome the hue taking over his head. Everything spun for a moment before he managed to focus enough to see Nick coming closer. There was a threatening expression on the man's face.

"Stop this", Wilson managed with strength and conviction he hadn't expected to find. "Snap out of this. Don't…"

This time the hand wrapped around his throat, certainly hard enough to cut off all oxygen supply. Panic rose inside Wilson like wildfire and he struggled with all there was in him, fighting for his very life, but the other man was far bigger. Nick leaned closer and closer, until he could feel the man's breath against his face. "Shut… the fuck up already. Don't _ever_ try to tell me what to do again."

* * *

Much later that evening House was fiddling with his guitar, every once in a while almost finding a melody but losing it again almost instantly. Something was bothering him but he couldn't quite name what, exactly, it was. It was a brand new puzzle. Not being able to solve it was driving him insane.

_Crazier_, anyway.

House was just contemplating a plan he might've – perhaps, possibly – regretted in not very distant future when his cell phone began to ring. One of his eyebrows bounced up as he discovered who the caller was. "Well, isn't this a surprise", he stated as a greeting.

For a moment he could've sworn that he heard a sob. That didn't make any sense. Wilson didn't do crying, unless of course the man was drunk enough. There was a pause that stretched a bit too long. "_Can I… uh…_" The oncologist cleared his throat. "_Do you think I can… come over? For just a bit?_" That voice… It was almost strangled. Weak, although the word should've never been associated with Wilson.

House refused to admit that the sharp jolt going through all of him could've been that of worry. He swallowed thickly. "Well, I had this very hot date in mind. But since I'm such an amazing friend…" He swallowed down the rest, mostly to avoid the heavily lingering question 'why?'.

Something was wrong. Perhaps House lacked some social skills but he was able to tell that much. The realization brought a numbing coldness into him.

That unidentifiable sound was there again. It took Wilson exactly two seconds to breathe out a reply. "_Thanks. I'll be there in five._" With those words the phone call was over.

House began to pace and despite the loud protests of his leg he didn't manage to stop until there was a familiar knock. He glanced towards his wrist watch and would've smirked under different circumstances. Exactly five minutes.

House limped his way to the door a bit faster than should've been possible, ripping it open in a flash. And froze. He was fairly sure that he didn't manage to hide the wave of shock, disgust and rage even nearly as well as he would've wanted to.

Sure enough, it was Wilson. With a split lip and a new set of injuries decorating his face. There were no tears anymore but the younger man's eyes were suspiciously red and swollen. Well, as far as it was possible to tell with all the bruising.

It took far longer than it should've before House managed to utter actual words. "_What the hell_ happened to you?" His tone came out far harsher than he'd intended, which he regretted as soon as he saw the way his friend flinched.

Wilson shook his head in a manner that can only be called desperate. Those warm eyes begging, _pleading_. "Later, okay?" _Please?_ With caution that shouldn't have been there the oncologist stepped into the apartment, noticeably leaving a bit of room between them.

House closed the door and didn't miss the fact that his friend's unnaturally stiff posture relaxed ever so slightly with the rest of the world having been shut out. He gritted his teeth, a million questions wanting to burst out. He'd never been exactly good at self restraint. "Make yourself at home", he muttered, not quite knowing what else to say.

There was something close to gratitude on Wilson's battered face as the man began to make his way towards the bathroom. House's eyes narrowed at the way the other favored his right leg. Wilson wasn't supposed to be the one of them with a limp.

In a mere second his decision was made.

With a gleam of determination in his eyes House took his cell phone and dialed. It took much too long before Foreman picked up. "_What did you do? Do you need to be bailed out? Should I call an ambulance?_"

House groaned with annoyance. "Why do you automatically assume that _I'm_ the one who's done something stupid? Never mind. I need tomorrow off and so does Wilson."

There was a long pause. Foreman swallowed loudly before speaking. "_Is he with you?_"

House's eyes darkened while something almost primal took over. Sheer helpless rage coursed through his veins, stinging and burning like lava on its way through. "Yeah, nicely battered and bruised." Carefully making sure that he did so subtly enough he stepped into the hallway and closed the door. "I don't know how badly he's hurt yet."

Foreman sighed heavily. There was another long pause. "_I know you, House. Don't overwhelm or aggravate him. Make sure that he's alright._"

House snorted. "'Alright' definitely isn't the word that I'd associate with him right now." He gritted his teeth. "I assume that this is the end of the third degree? Bye." He hung up without waiting for a response.

Upon re-entering the apartment House discovered that Wilson was no longer in the bathroom. It didn't take long to notice that his friend had made his way to the couch. At the moment the beaten oncologist was fast asleep, curled up to his side with a small frown.

For the longest time House just stood there, not knowing what to do and hating it from the bottom of his heart. He knew that he should've checked Wilson's injuries but he didn't have the heart to rouse his friend who'd just found a place to rest. So instead he took a blanket that'd been forgotten to a nearby armchair and threw it on Wilson's slightly trembling frame.

Fighting the urge to smash something to pieces and pushing down another urge that was far more dangerous House turned a bit too sharply for his leg and began to make his way towards his bed, preparing himself for a long night.

* * *

TBC?

* * *

A/N: Poor Wilson, no? (winces) But at least he's safe with House, now. Let's hope that this will be the first step towards him breaking free from that creep. (sighs)

Soooo… Any good, at all? PLEASE, let me hear your thoughts! A word or two would mean the world to me.

Until next time, ya all! I really hope that I'll see you all then.

Take care!

* * *

**SpanishGirl**: My Spanish skills are tragically limited, but according to what I translated it seems that you enjoyed the first bit. (BEAMS) I truly hope that what's to come won't disappoint you, either!

HUGE thank yous for the review!

* * *

**Namasteyo**: Ah, I'm REALLY happy to hear that you enjoyed the first bit so much! (grins from ear to ear) Mmm, the idea of House beating the person hurting Wilson with his cane sounds suuuuuper tempting…

I'm not a huge fan of 'bad Wilson', either. It just doesn't seem to suit the picture I have of him. (winces)

Massive thank yous for the review! Perhaps I'll be seeing you around?

* * *

**Toosie**: Your wish is my command! (grins)

Thank you so much for the review!

* * *

**anon**: It doesn't feel done to me, either, soooo… (smirks) I'm really glad to hear that you liked the startout! I truly hope that you'll enjoy what's to come as well.

Monumental thank yous for the review!

* * *

**Loundryfolder**: (giggles) Awww, your review seriously made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! 30 chapters… We'll see, we'll see. (chuckles) But it warms my heart to hear that you'd be willing to stick around through that much.

Humongous thank yous for the absolutely amazing review! I truly hope that what's to come meets your expectations.


	3. Shame Marks

A/N: First of all, I'm so, SO sorry that it took me this long to update! (winces) Life's… sort of swallowed me up. If it's any consolation I'll do my best to improve my ways from now.

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your amazing reviews and love! You can't even imagine how happy it makes me that there are so many of you on board with this story. (BEAMS, and hugs) So thank you! You guys are precious, ya know?

Awkay, because I've already kept you waiting wayyyyyy too long… Let's go! I truly hope that the ride turns out worth the wait.

* * *

Shame Marks

* * *

/ _It's stunning, really, how often the things that change our lives forever arrive as subtly as a whisper._

_It was a perfectly normal, rather chilly evening and all Wilson wanted was to get home. He'd had a rough day with two patients dying and he'd had barely any sleep the night before. He couldn't wait to get into the safety of his own bed._

_Fate, however, seemed to have very different plans. For just as he was about to call it a day there was a hesitant knock to the door of his office. Wilson sighed and rubbed his face with a exhausted hand. "Come on in", he called as politely as he possibly could. With the fact that he had a light on there was no use in pretending that he wasn't there._

_There door opened without much of a sound, almost cautiously. The steps that entered were slow and hesitant, unsteady. "I… was wondering if you have a minute."_

_Wilson frowned. Slowly, slowly he lifted his gaze. And found his eyes widening. "What are you doing here?"_ /

* * *

Wilson woke up to poking. Again. Fourth time that night, if his math hadn't failed him. He groaned, swatting a hand against the intrusion. "Stop that. I'm not concussed." His head was killing him, though.

House huffed with annoyance. "Tell that to the horn you're developing." Even without looking he felt piercing eyes on him. Amazingly the older man actually remained silent for the total of three seconds. "Wilson, you're a doctor. You can give me whatever fairytale crap you want but I can tell that you should be in a hospital right now."

That most definitely made Wilson's eyes fly wide open, the fact that it seemed to send daggers through his skull be damned. He shook his head fiercely, swallowing stubbornly against the nausea building up. "No."

House stared at him like he'd just told the absolutely worst joke in the whole world. Then snorted. "'No'? You've gotta do hell a lot better than that."

Despite the pain, nausea and the horrific memories spinning around in his head steel hard determination filled Wilson. He gritted his teeth, feeling how his eyes sharpened. Sharpened although he was pleading. "Don't… take me there. Please."

Those people he worked with every day…

He didn't want them to know.

Couldn't bear that idea of them knowing… _this_.

All he wanted was to stay here. Where he felt safe, with what was familiar. That was why he chose this place – House – in the first place.

Perhaps House actually understood. Because despite the reluctance written all over the older man's face the diagnostician emitted a suffering sigh and nodded. "Fine. But don't think for even a second that we're through with this. Now take off your shirt."

That most definitely caught Wilson's attention. He coughed, as though choking on his very breath. "What?" he sputtered.

House rolled his eyes. "If you're enough of an idiot to demand me not to take you to a hospital I'll have to do the check up myself." Seeing his embarrassment the other man groaned. "Please…! We shared an apartment, remember? I've seen you shirtless before."

The last thing Wilson wanted to do was to bear what he'd worked so very hard to keep to himself. But as much as he hated it he knew that House was right. He didn't know how badly he'd been hurt. And since House had probably guessed most of his secret by now…

Pointedly not looking at his friend Wilson grabbed his shirt with firm yet shaking hands, gritted his teeth once again and pulled the fabric over his head, revealing the damage. Unfolding his shame marks with about as much pride and dignity as he could muster.

He prentended that he didn't hear that brief, sharp gasp. That he didn't sense the immense wave of shock. "Shit…!"

Wilson willed his mind elsewhere when House eventually began the process of cataloguing the damage. Allowed himself to drift away. The words came to him through some sort of a bizarre fog, barely ragistering.

"A lot of bruising and swelling."

* * *

/ _A kick hit him, so hard that all breath was stolen. Then another. The cry that erupted was that of rage and anguish but it didn't come from him._ /

* * *

"Bruised ribs, but I don't think any of them are broken. Getting you to x-ray would be a brilliant idea but since you've decided to be a moron…" A hand traveled down his skin and there was a shiver when confusion set in. For a moment Wilson forgot who it was touching him.

* * *

/ _The glass cut far more sharply that Wilson could've expected when his arm rammed straight through a class cabinet and he stumbled down, unable to hold his balance under the push he'd just received. It cut deep. And as he saw his own reflection from the reddened shards Wilson wondered, with a chilling amount of lucidity, if he was going to die right there._ /

* * *

"That's going to need stitches. It doesn't look infected, though. I may be able to deal with it here but I doubt it'd be a lot of fun for you…"

"It's okay", Wilson interrupted without a second thought. That comfortingly familiar numbness had taken over him. "I can take it." He'd taken a lot worse without a flinch.

It was blessedly silent for a while. Sure enough House's ministrations hurt but it was far from unbearable. He shivered every time the other man's fingers brushed him, though, his body not quite managing to decide what to make of the contact.

* * *

/ _"I'm sorry…! I'm so sorry…!"_ /

* * *

Wilson was drifting in a world of his own until House's voice pulled him back harshly. "So… Are you going to tell me who did this to you so we can hand that guy's ass to the cops on a silver platter?"

Wilson swallowed loudly, feeling trapped. All of a sudden he didn't feel quite so safe anymore. "I don't know", he claimed quickly. "I was…"

"You have bruises in various stages of healing and some already scarred wounds." House's voice was shaking with fury and impatience. "So if you think that you can write this off as some sort of a random attack, guess again."

Finally Wilson looked at his friend, met those fierce blue eyes that were clearly demanding explanations. He lifted his chin a little. "Stop that." How many times had he asked that over the past twenty-four hours?

Once again he was ignored. "Whatever this is, it's been going on for a while, now. Why did you choose to seek help now?" And then, of course, the diagnostician's eyes spotted the bruising on his neck. "This time was different. Something new happened."

All of a sudden hellish burning took over Wilson's eyes. His whole battered body shook. "House, STOP!" he snarled with as much volume as his abused throat allowed.

Something entirely too close to fury flashed in House's eyes. "You've seen how things like this may end! This will kill you, Wilson! Don't you understand how close it came today? What do you think you're doing?!"

Wilson's jaw tightened to such extend that it hurt. His eyes lit up to a flame. "I'm not some battered housewife, House! And I'm not one of your cases either! So SHUT UP!" He was up far faster than his head would've been ready for it, scrambling towards the door with feet that barely carried his weight. "This was a mistake, coming here. Just… Just forget about this, okay?"

House stared at him incredulously, then shook his head. "Yeah, that confirms it. You _did_ bang your head, hard. Because you're delusional."

It took all the remaining composure Wilson had. But in the end he managed to create a relatively calm expression. "See you tomorrow", he murmured in the most monotonous voice he was able to find. "And thanks, for this." With that he was on his way away.

"Wilson, I'm not going to let you…!"

The door was already closed between them. Such a silly, small obstacle. Yet Wilson felt like there'd never been a greater distance between them.

Somehow that thought hurt more than any of his injuries.

* * *

House stared at the door for the total of three minutes. Stared, as though expecting it to open with the sheer power of his will. It didn't.

House swallowed, hating the taste that filled his mouth.

Those bruises on Wilson's skin were etched into his head like a tattoo. Never to be erased. He'd never felt such rage in his life that filled him at that moment.

Whoever did this to Wilson wouldn't stop.

And Wilson wouldn't walk away.

Not until…

Well. Too bad. Because House wasn't about to let _that_ happen. Not as long as there was even a single breath left within him. Wilson had brought him back from the brink far more times than he could count. It was time to return the favor.

So House took his cell phone and dialed numbers. He drummed impatiently with his fingers until there was finally a response. "Don't hang up." It sounded far too much like a plea to his liking but he decided to let that slide for now. "This isn't about me."

* * *

The apartment was dark when Wilson walked in. It made sense. Quite often after one of their confrontations Nick went for a walk to clear his head. Good. It made doing what had to be done easier.

Quickly, his hands shaking miserably the entire time, Wilson began to gather the few belongings he considered his. A toothbrush. Clothes. Some precious mementos Nick had chuckled at the day he brought them in. He didn't bother to write a note. After all the time passed he was sure that the reasons for his departure were more than clear.

Once he was done Wilson looked around and blinked slowly. So very little seemed to have changed. It was amazing how a person could disappear entirely without leaving even the slightest trace.

Wilson was exactly two steps away from the door when his cell phone began to ring. He frowned at the unfamiliar number, a shiver of dread crossing him. It took longer than it should've before he made his decision and picked up. "James Wilson."

"_This is nurse Veronica Tilly._" Her voice was professional yet full of empathy. Or was that pity? "_A man named Nick Duncan was admitted here an hour ago and you are listed as his emergency contact…_"

At that very moment Wilson knew that he wouldn't be getting away tonight.

Another hour later found Wilson from a small, dark hospital room. It wasn't his hospital, thankfully, but it hadn't made passing by the nurses and doctors with his bruises a lot more pleasant. The humiliation barely mattered now, though.

Wilson swallowed laboriously and hated how a moment of fear grabbed him. As though Nick would've been able to do anything in his current condition. Unable to do much else he slumped to the chair that'd been dragged beside the bed, his eyes not straying from the patient.

He made a promise, once upon a time. And he wouldn't break it, especially not now. So he sat there in the dark, with the unconscious man and machines keeping him company, and waited. Feeling like a wild animal trapped into a cage far too small.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: So what, exactly, is going on with Nick? And hey, did you honestly expect House to just sit by doing nothing while THIS is going on? And what's Wilson going to do?

IN THE NEXT ONE: While House learns the full complexity of Wilson's situation the younger doctor becomes sucked even deeper into the mess. Is it already too late to help him?

Until next time, ya all! I REALLY hope that you'll all join in for that one. And since I most likely won't be updating before that… (winces)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Take care!

* * *

**emili12d**: Poor Wilson, no? (winces) Let's hope that things start to get better soon.

I'm REALLY happy to hear that you're so eager to read more! I truly hope that the next one won't disappoint you.

Huge thank yous for the review!

* * *

**axe10gas**: A bit of a twist there, no? Let's just hope that Wilson gets some help SOON. Because that situation he's in seems really bad. (shudders) I REALLY hope that you'll keep enjoying what's to come!

Massive thank yous for the review!

* * *

**Namasteyo**: Quite a horrid situation Wilson's in, no? (sighs) Let's hope that it's resolved soon, especially now that it seems House will soon know the truth.

I could totally see Wilson doing this, staying in a VERY unhealthy relationship because someone needs him desperately. Let's just hope that the determination to help won't cost him too dearly…

Colossal thank yous for the review!


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